


Bang

by seqular (sequential)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Evil Stan, Gunplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequential/pseuds/seqular
Summary: Ford deepthroats a gun - that's it, that's the fic. Set inahkaraii's Evil Stan AU.





	Bang

“C’mon, get to it,” Stan says, twirling his gun before settling it on Ford’s forehead. He always was too proud of his brains. “Either I come,” he says, and cocks the gun, “or this does.” He glances down at Ford, at the faintest trace of arousal outlined against his zipper. “Or maybe you do,” he says, and steps down on it decisively. 

Ford yowls, tears pricking at his eyes, but clenches his mouth shut mid-yelp.

“No? Well, I can make the choice for you,” Stan says, and starts shifting the gun down, between his eyes, over his nose, down to his mouth. He moves deliberately, and once he’s there he inches his finger back...

“No!” Ford gasps. “I’ll - I’ll do it. You, Stanley, I’ll do you.”

“Beg for it,” Stan tells him.

Ford closes his eyes, fists clenching by his sides, then unclenching. And then he seems to find peace. His eyes flick up to Stan’s face, then to his eyepatch, and back to center. “Please let me suck your cock, Stanley.”

“Woah there, I never said anything about letting you near my dick,” Stan tells him. With a shove he pushes the tip of the gun past Ford’s lips. It clicks against his teeth before Ford lets it into his mouth fully, too surprised to stop the intrusion. “I said make me come. Put on a show.”

Ford’s eyes are wide, and then he gets it. His tongue darts out past the barrel of the gun to lick a stripe across the underside, leaving a shiny trail of saliva. And then he starts bobbing his head, going from 0 to 100 in a second. That’s right, Ford’s first priority has always been survival. Shame is an afterthought at best.

Ford reaches a tentative hand forward to palm at Stan’s crotch, but he bats it away. “Focus,” Stan snaps, then after a few more seconds of futile bobbing, adds, “Y’know, I think I’ll give you a minute. I’m getting bored here!” 

Ford’s eyes, which have drifted closed in a look that might be focus but somehow also resembles bliss, fly open. “No—“ he starts, but Stan just shoves the gun in harder.

“Deepthroat it, make it sexy, I’m sure you can do it. C’mon, I even did the work of getting myself hard for you.” That much is true, though his arousal feels more like a faint pulse of disgust in the background. “60, 59, 58, …”

Ford takes his instructions, chokes himself on the gun. He’s fucking his mouth forward with enough force that it travels up the arm Stan’s using to hold the gun. His tears are flowing freely now, and his hands twitch toward Stan like he wants to grab him, but is afraid.

“… 41, 40, …” Stan continues, and then Ford does reach for him, frantically undoes his belt and zip and paws at Stan’s dick. Stan lets him this time. Ford’s quite expert with his fingers, and a few skilled strokes and the sight of Ford licking up and down the barrel brings Stan’s pounding arousal back into full focus.

“28, 27, …” Stan continues. Ford’s actually not looking too bad here. B+ performance, maybe, a chance of making it if he aces the final.

“10,” Stan says, and Ford is stroking frantically,

“9,” Ford takes one deep breath, then another,

“8,” Ford meets Stan’s eyes, and really chokes himself on the gun - Stan can feel the resistance against the back of his throat clearly. Ford rubs the head of his dick, and as Stanley jerks forward, the gun pushing deeper into his throat, Ford’s eyes well up with a fresh round of tears. The tears, the way he’s looking up at Stan, the mix of hope and despair in his eyes, reminds him of a younger Ford. He can feel his orgasm building, but, 

“7,” a gunshot. 

Ford makes gurgling noises for a moment, mouth still open wide, before he slumps over.

Stan pulls his gun out, and examines the gore on the tip with disgust. That gets rubbed off on the back of Ford’s coat, and then he strokes a thumb up and down the barrel fondly. There’s still traces of pink from blood and spit.

“Sorry about that,” he tells the body on the floor, “looks like we shot our load early, eh? I swear that doesn’t happen often.” He’s still hard, but he can’t think of dealing with it yet, now, ever. 

Unlike Ford, he’s still got some self-control.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr (nsfw)](https://angularprism.tumblr.com)


End file.
